Bringing the house down
by wonkeygirl
Summary: Esme has built a scaled-down replica of an English medieval castle as a 5th wedding present for Emmet and Rosalie. But what happens on the first night of their 5th honemoon? Probably going to be a series of one-shots. Rated M for sexual content


Emmet slammed me into the stone wall, the ancient granite crushing and crumbling under the pressure, sending us tumbling to the ground. His fingers ripped viciously at my clothing, rendering me breathless and unashamedly naked. I writhed beneath his muscular frame.

I loved Dominating Emmet. The way his hands commanded my attention as they assaulted my body was deliciously arousing. The sounds he made, wild and animalistic. How he voraciously conquered every quivering inch of me. My Viking, my Roman.

He forced his arm beneath the curve of my spine and took my buttocks in his firm hand. He jerked my hips up to meet his as his teeth sank into my shoulder, his free hand tugging urgently at my blond waves - thank goodness for hair extensions. I growled in delight and lifted my hips higher, searching for him.

"No, you wait your turn, wench. I want you good and ready when I finally take you. I want you screaming my name, begging me to fill you. I want you so insane with your need for me that you can't even remember your own name. Do you understand?"

I gasped at his words. Well, this was new.

His promises, whispered roughly into my ear, sent a shiver of anticipation through my bones. He leaned away from me as his hand released my hair and in one tantalizingly slow movement, snaked its way over my left shoulder. His eyes trailed suggestively over my skin and a smile of approval spread across his full lips. The hand continued its' provocative journey over my breast, brushing a finger over my straining nipple, before continuing on a meandering journey over my taught stomach, around the curve of my hip, over the crest of my thigh before finally coming to rest amidst the flames that begged to be quenched between my legs.

I raised a questioning eyebrow and I spread my thighs for him.

"Now," he breathed "Since we've been at this a mere minute or two I'm pretty sure you're neither ready nor insane. But,' he grinned wickedly "just to be sure…"

Almost indiscernibly, his finger stroked the length of my entrance. His eyes bore into mine, an impish grin flashing across his face, as the tip of his tongue suggestively traced his lower lip.

"What is your name?" an innocent tone in his voice.

I closed my eyes for a moment, torn between the almost intolerable sensations of his searching finger urging me to surrender now and feign the dissolving of my faculties, and the thought of being driven into such a sexual frenzy that I'd forget who I was.

This was a definite departure from our usually rapid but extremely satisfying lovemaking. Neither of us was known for having a reserved nature. His bullish tendencies and my impatience coupled with our insatiable desire for one another led to heated, albeit brief, encounters which - much to Esme's dismay - often brought the house down, in a literal sense.

"What are you thinking about?" his question interrupted my reverie.

"I was thinking," I replied, in between breaths "about the last time…we made love…in the Garden House." I began to squirm beneath his relentless hand. "And the reason why Esme had to_…_build us this new place."

He chuckled and playfully nipped at my overly aroused breasts before returning to his question. "You didn't answer me."

"Nnnnh, uhhhh..R…Rosalie," I panted. If he was willing to slow the game then so was I. Besides, I reckoned I could reduce him to a quivering….._oh shit!_

My competitive side was suddenly silent. Emmet had planted his angelic face between my trembling thighs and was embarking on a slow exploration with his tongue. His hands were now gripping my undulating hips subduing them into stillness. I resisted and shifted impatiently against the maddeningly delicious sensation of his mouth against me. It wasn't enough; I just wanted him inside me, now. He replied by gripping my hips harder.

I pouted. Whilst I enjoyed being pinned down, I was used to Emmet being a little further North of his current position and a larger, harder part of his anatomy doing the work that his tongue was currently undertaking. Nope, I didn't have the patience for this. I enjoyed being screwed way too much, and I reached down and tugged at his hair. His hands met mine and pushed them to the floor.

He raised his head slightly. "You may as well surrender. I told you, you're not having me until you forget who you are. And right now, you are behaving exactly like my beautiful, stubborn wife would behave,' and he winked at me.

Exasperated, and annoyingly turned-on at the same time, I let my head fall to the floor with a thud. It wasn't like me to give in so easily, but Emmet had always been able to win me in a way no-one else could…besides, he was stronger than me and it was evident that he was not going to give in; may as well enjoy the ride.

Ride. A smile slid across my face. Yes, I certainly enjoyed riding Emmet; the thrill of my hips crashing down onto his again, and again, and again; him filling me so completely and perfectly; the way he would thrust into me as I would lean back on one hand, my other hand working feverishly just an inch above our union. The friction was so…so…._oh… holy hell!_


End file.
